


Caught

by OnlyDepravedInTheDark



Series: Caught [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Caught in the Act, Crying (because of overstimulation), Embarrassment, Kink, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Porn, Self-Bondage, Sex Toys, sub/dom overtones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 19:00:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18372158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyDepravedInTheDark/pseuds/OnlyDepravedInTheDark
Summary: Stiles lifts his head to glare at Derek’s continued presence invading Stiles’ obvious personal time, (he’d like to die of mortification in peace, thank you very much) but can’t find the right expression to counter Derek’s, who looks like he’s justwon the fucking lotto.





	Caught

*******

He’s months overdue for a decent session, which is why Stiles is now sweating and strung out and so fucking horny he literally can’t even see straight.But this is how he likes it — no, actually, this is how he _needs_ it.And he _does_ need this.Needs to be driven to the next level whether he thinks he’s ready for it or not.It’s how he resets the balance in his mind — self bondage as a kind of therapy.

Balance is essential, Stiles had discovered a few years back; before his sophomore year of insanity, even.  He’d been so off kilter, not just in home life or school life, but in his own head because the world had long since gone nuts around him (supernaturally and normally) and for the longest time he’d thought it was just him being weak or wimpy or broken — just him being unable to cope with the world the way everyone else seemed to do so effortlessly.  There wasn’t a damn thing in his life that he really had full control over and it was fucking with him — fucking with his head, every damn minute of every damn day.  It was like his psyche was a freaking yo-yo or something.

But in a backwards sort of way, self-enforced endurance of being stuck and uncomfortable and desperate for a release he has little choice but to wait for, well — this _is_ his own doing, like mind management through self kink.  But whatever— it works and when the clock runs out (when the chunk of ice finally melts), he’ll have one more successful session to add to his tally and he can ride the self-controlled high of it for weeks or more.

Handily, his dad’s out of town for two and a half weeks at some police convention followed by a longer summer fishing trip with an old college buddy, and Scott is on vacation with Allison in Boston (while they still have time before everyone heads off to college again).  With the supernatural chaos so quiet these days, no one from the pack ever stops by (or calls or answers Stiles’ calls), really, so now Stiles has finally has the time and space and privacy he needs to reset himself.  It’s been months too long between serious sessions, so he’s upped his game to counteract it.  

This is a whole new level for him, though, and he’s beginning to wonder if he’s maybe gone too far.

He’s kneeling and bent forward with his chest mostly over the desk and half over the seat back of a metal folding chair.  His knees and ankles are strapped to the edges of the seat, knees held open just wide enough that he has no leverage to squirm away, either back or forward, because the belts around his waist and thighs are fixed to the chair back too, giving him only an inch or so of wiggle room in any direction.  

His hands are fastened in front of him and cuffed to a foot long length of thin (but sturdy) pvc pipe that’s attached to the simple leather dog collar around his neck, which is also attached by a short chain to the chair, giving him room to move, but not enough length to unbuckle either the collar or the belts pinning him to the chair until his hands are freed.  The weighted keys to the wrist cuffs are slowly lowering from the hook on the ceiling as the other end of the string is released bit by bit as the ice it’s trapped in melts away.  But this setup gives him just enough access to reach his laptop where it’s set on the desk in front of him to peruse porn as he likes and to reach the tall sports-bottled water beside it.

The cock ring is essential for his brand of restraint, though it’s of the home-made, budget-friendly, flexible hair-tie variety, and the new addition are the bobby-pin nipple clips keeping his over-sensitive nipples painfully (deliciously) pinched, and another wider length of pvc fixed and angled ‘just so’ to the bottom of the chair back for his dick.  It had been hard (pun intended) to force his swollen, aching cock into the tube, seeing as how he’d attached two boar-bristled hairbrushes to the inside of it, dragging (blissfully) achingly over his weeping dick if he wriggles around in any way.  And wriggle he will, like it or not.

The plug in his ass, even more than his entrapped dick, is the reason behind the never-ending stream of sweat down his face and back plus more than a few tears down his cheeks.  The plug is almost cruel, with bumps and ridges in the perfect, torturous, prostate-teasing places and flared thick enough that he’d had to over-lube and finger himself very efficiently before he could work the head of it into his ass.  And even better?  It has random-start, random time-length, random intensity vibrator tucked inside that has him choking off moans and cursing almost non-stop whenever it kicks on, which inevitably has his hips and cock jerking reflexively, painfully (fantastically) forward and into those needle-like scraping bristles, and that alone has him nearly sobbing in both agony and ecstasy, unable to do anything but ride it out.

He’s lost track of how long he’s been locked down this way and he hadn’t bothered time-testing the ice-melting release since the likelihood of interrupting visitors is dismally low; the keys somewhere above him still on their meandering way down and he’s got some bareback, gangbang porn on that he’s only listening to now, since the last cycle of vibrations had petered out, leaving him shivering exhaustedly and his dick aching far, far more than he’d bargained for.  

Far, _far_ more.  

His failsafe key (because he might be an idiot, but he’s not stupid) is taped underneath his desk and easily reachable if he’s so inclined to tip himself, folding chair and all, painfully onto the floor to retrieve it.  But the last time he’d ‘opted out’ of a session early had left him with something that he thinks was a lot like sub drop for nearly three whole days afterwards.  So he’s not tapping out now unless he knows for certain that those dangling keys aren’t coming down for one reason or another.

He can get through this.  Probably.  He just needs to be patient.  Be strong.  He drifts into a light doze for a while, head resting on the desk and tries to mentally prepare himself for the next wave.

*******

Stiles wasn’t prepared at all (mentally or otherwise) for Derek Hale to choose this _highly_ inconvenient day to visit for the first time in two plus months, rolling gracefully in through Stiles’ semi-open window, then freezing stock-still when he finally takes in the scene in front of him, eyes widening and face going almost entirely blank with shock.  

Stiles’ own face, he doesn’t doubt, is stuck on sheer _horror_ at being caught in this homemade contraption of sensual torment and Derek’s lips part just the tiniest bit (likely to ask ‘ _What the fuck?_ ’) when the plug switches back on again, stronger vibrations that come in little stop-and-start pulses that have Stiles’ eyes slamming shut while he chokes off the full-throated groan and whimper when his hips jolt forward without his say-so.  Even as his head drops back down to the desk, fingers scrambling uselessly over the surface, he hears Derek’s sharp inhale and then there’s almost complete silence until Stiles manages to tamp down his own quiet shuddering breaths when the pulses finally quit a minute (or two... or five) later.  Then he hears Derek swallow.

“You— that—“ Derek inhales another shaky breath.  “That was _magnificent_ ,” he rasps out, sounding almost reverent.

Stiles lifts his head to glare at Derek’s continued presence invading Stiles’ _obvious_ personal time, (he’d like to die of mortification in peace, thank you very much) but can’t find the right expression to counter Derek’s, who looks like he’s just won the fucking lotto.

Derek’s eyes are serious and heavy and wanting and tracing all over Stiles’ flushed and sweaty body, lingering on Stiles’ dick where it’s hidden away inside the tube (likely wondering at it’s purpose) before tracking back up to Stiles’ face.  Derek edges forward uncertainly, then drops to his knees beside the folding chair and desk so they’re nearly eye to eye, but keeps his gaze steady on Stiles, taking in the sweat and the lingering tears and flushed face.

“I’ll leave if you want me to,” he says a little belatedly (and doesn’t look like he means it much, if at all), “but it’s been—“. Derek swallows again, eyes drifting back down to Stiles’ plugged ass.  “I want to see it,” he says, licking his lips.  “Want to watch you come apart.”  And Derek’s very blown-out pupils seem to indicate he’s totally serious.

Stiles whines a little, because _really_?  First visit in months and _this_ is why he wants to stay?  To witness Stiles’ self-imposed, self-healing humiliation?  There’s a fraction of Stiles’ brain that’s never quite given up his numerous high school Derek-related crush fantasies that perks a little at the thought of Derek-related anything in regards to sex that has no issues at all with Derek being here regardless of why.

But whatever, Stiles doesn’t have time to even contemplate an answer before the plug vibes kick back in, this time with a rolling sensation, soft vibes that amplify into ground-quaking thuds straight onto Stiles’ sweet spot and he groans through clenched teeth, panting and hips jittering until the vibes wind down and then Stiles just catches his breath, gasping through his teeth with his eyes screwed shut until the sensations ratchet back up and Stiles quivers head to toe and drops his head back down to the desk, shoulders hitching with the force of his next overwhelmed sob.  He nearly forgets about Derek entirely until a gentle hand grips the back of Stiles’ neck and squeezes, firm and reassuring and grounding and stays there until the vibes finally fade out entirely, sometime later.

“You don’t even know how gorgeous you look this way,” Derek says in a thick voice.  “How long have you been up here like this?”

Stiles shakes his head woozily after a minute, where it’s still resting on the desk.  “Dunno.  Lost track,” he admits.  “Sun was still up though,” he shivers out through dry lips, then lifts his head to reach for his water.  

Derek doesn’t interfere, or help, caught up watching Stiles’ latest porn choice:  This scene has the helpless little twink manhandled, pinned down, and spread wide by a dozen or more rough hands while his ass is fucked open again and again by cocks coming deep and sloppy inside him while he whimpers and whines for ‘no more’.  Stiles drinks deep and flushes again when he sees the look Derek gives him.  

“Don’t judge, asshole,” he mutters, eyes darting away a as he goes pink.  “My room, my business.”

“Not judging,” Derek says at once, head shaking a little.  “I might be a little... envious, actually.”  

Stiles frowns his disbelief and Derek shrugs, looking away for a second.  “Had a Dom, back in New York.  Another werewolf.  It helped keep me in check, when nothing else would.”

Huh.  

Stiles hadn’t seen that one coming.  

He opens his mouth to say as much and the next cycle kicks on, one strong, seemingly endless one that feels like it’s deliberately targeting his prostate and Stiles is practically convulsing a minute later when it _still_ hasn’t stopped.  His hips are practically convulsing along with the rest of him and he feels so close to coming that he’s clawing at the desk, head shaking and sobbing.  Derek’s hand is again firm on his neck and actually feels cool to the touch. (Impressive, because werewolves are walking _spaceheaters_.)  Stiles continues to twitch and whimper even after the vibes finally cease.

“Fuck, Stiles—“ Derek grits out, sounding as breathless as Stiles feels and Stiles knows the zipper he hears is Derek dealing with his own dick and Stiles suddenly, desperately wants to see it, to maybe _taste_ and he licks his parched lips when he finally finds the strength to lift his head.  Derek’s flush full and thick and long and uncut and leaking slippery wet at the tip and Stiles has no idea how Derek has managed to hide _all that_ in those unfairly attractive skinny jeans for all these years. 

“Will you—“ Derek starts, already lifting up from his knees and Stiles is already nodding with a hungry, keening noise, lips parting and then Stiles gets his first perfect taste of dick when Derek steadies Stiles’ head and just feeds his cock to Stiles one fat inch at a time, finally pressing deep enough to have Stiles light-headed and airless — which is when the next cycle starts and Derek groans, gripping Stiles tight by the hair with a hiss when Stiles mouth can’t help but clamp down just a little with surprise.  “ _Fuck_ , just relax your jaw— just let me—“

But Derek doesn’t seem to have any more coherent words and just pulls back all the way out, a sticky string of spit and precum dripping off Stiles’ lip while Stiles whines again, tongue flickering out to get another taste before Derek drives back in, hips picking up the rhythm of the vibes pulsing their frantic beat in Stiles’ ass while Derek just full-on throat fucks him.  He pulls out and away entirely when the vibes cease again and is now breathing nearly as hard as Stiles is and very deliberately drawing his own hands back from his cock to maybe keep himself in check too.

“Just so you know,” Derek says after he’s calmed a little, “there’s still a lot of ice in that bucket.”

Stiles nods, forehead resting against Derek’s bare hip now while he remasters his own breathing, eyeing Derek’s swollen dick out of the corner of his eye.  “I’m okay with that,” he decides after a minute and Derek huffs out a breath of amusement above him.

“So... how long have you been doing—“

“Years,” Stiles cuts him off with a sigh, shifting his aching knees a tiny bit.  “Mental reset,” he says in explanation, eyes drifting past Derek’s hip to the laptop again where some bull of a guy is cramming an impossibly huge cock into the twink now pinned ass-up to a locker room bench, a thick splurge of cum leaking out around the edges while the monster dick is trying to wedge all twelve-plus super-thick inches into the fucked-out pucker.  

Stiles shivers and Derek’s breath shudders out and he grips his dick in a squeezing pinch even while a little dribble oozes out and drips down the side.Stiles licks his lips again, watching that one drop trail slowly downward.

“If you’re gonna stay, and I don’t mind, really... if it’s not too much to ask, I’d kinda like to come on your cock when I finally get those keys down,” Stiles says candidly, because it’s not like he’s going to be _less_ embarrassed after he’s finally done riding the euphoric high.May as well go for broke and finally pop his anal cherry with something that’s not a toy, right?

Derek huffs again, squeezing another dollop of jizz out before forcing his hands away again to grip the edge of the desk instead, fingernails looking decidedly sharp.“Definitely,” he agrees, a slight growl to his voice, then feeds his dick back into Stiles when the pulses, light and gentle mixed with long and strong start back up.Stiles twitches, trying to suck Derek down faster, stupid with desperation and has Derek snarling above him and forcibly keeping Stiles’s head and jaw still and wide while he fucks his own way in and Stiles’ eyes roll back when his groan is cut off completely by Derek’s cock a minute later.

“Need to learn some patience, brat,” Derek breathes out, holding Stiles’ head immobile, almost choking him through the next faint vibes, only pulling away to let Stiles get a good gasp in before driving back down, hips jolting in time to the heavy thuds of the plug that has Stiles’ eyes overflowing again, lost in the sensation.

He resurfaces a minute later to find Derek nearly crooning words of praise, fingers feathering through Stiles’ hair.“So fucking perfect, you don’t even know—“ Stiles shivers with a different kind of pleasure, nuzzling at Derek’s sac before taking little kitten-licks at it that have Derek sighing a little.“Behave,” Derek says, fingers soft on Stiles’ cheek, “or I won’t come inside that gorgeous ass.Behave, and I’ll come so deep and so hard you’ll still feel wet this time next week.”

Stiles nods with a little whine, tonguing at the base of Derek’s dick in a way that he hopes feels apologetic.Cause being dirty-wet back there?Yeah, that’s something he wants to feel. 

The next cycle is so intense, it takes Stiles to the brink of consciousness, whimpering a little when his hips just won’t stop their aborted little thrusts and weirdly has Derek kissing him into calming a minute later, tongue darting in to taste and toy with Stiles’. 

Stiles knows he’s gonna have beard burn tomorrow and couldn’t care less because Derek’s a fantastic kisser, especially with little words of comfort and praise and encouragement peppered in between gentle swipes of tongue, his nose nudged almost affectionately by Derek’s until the next cycle begins and ends and— well, wash, rinse, repeat.

Stiles understandably (in his opinion) loses track of time again (and maybe reality, too) after that, so it’s actually Derek who unlocks Stiles’ cuffs and undoes all the buckles because Stiles’ hands don’t seem to be working anymore, trembling like they are.  By then and he’s more than glad to tug his abraded, swollen dick away from the evil tube that he will _absolutely_ be using again (even if his cock now looks like it’s suffering beard burn of its own).Derek doesn’t even bother with the bed, just shoves Stiles back onto the desk, hikes Stiles’ legs up over Derek’s elbows, carefully tugs the cock ring off and pulls the plug free and drives himself in to the root, eyes going alpha red in a way that _totally_ works for Stiles. 

Stiles just lets his head fall back while his mouth falls open, clings to the edges of the desk and just lets Derek use him, hard and merciless, prying his thighs wide with bruising strength when he readjusts his grip and has Stiles riding the edge only seconds later, helpless to do anything but whine and maybe sob and just _take it._   But by now Stiles is almost _too_ worked up to come and just sobs out his frustration while Derek slams in over and over, uncaring of Stiles’ incoherent pleas until he’s actively begging.

“Derek, I _can’t_ — fuck, please? _Please_!I need—“

Now Derek growls as he scoops Stiles up like his weight is nothing and drops him face-first and ass-up onto the bed, pinning Stiles down by neck and driving back in, pausing only enough to readjust the angle and then Stiles’ orgasm is practically rammed out of him by Derek’s cock just hammering just right, _just there_.Derek keens, hips stuttering when Stiles’ ass clenches hard around him, then redoubles his pace until Stiles is sobbing and way, _way_ oversensitive but still angling his hips higher and just right until he’s coming again.

Derek snarls behind him, shoving in deep enough to have Stiles groan out in pain/pleasure, then groaning with satisfaction when Derek twitches hard and deep and hot and wet again and again and again inside before he finally stills with a whining sigh and sort of just collapses down onto Stiles’ back, hips still twitching through the aftershocks.

“Stay in me,” Stiles gasps desperately, tremble-reaching back to grab at Derek’s hip and Derek nods against the back of his head, cock slowly softening in a way that has Stiles sighing with pleasure while he shivers through his own aftershocks because dirty-wet and still slippery-full of Derek’s dick feels fucking _amazing_ and he needs to memorize every fractional detail of how this feels.

“So,” Derek mumbles quietly, a little later.

“So,” Stiles sighs out a minute after that.“Same time next week?”

*******

 


End file.
